It's Woven In My Soul
by blaineydays
Summary: Seventeen-year-old Blaine Anderson has been in the foster system for the past to years, bouncing from house to house, with a boys home in between the moves. After a two year stay with a family, Blaine was taken out and forced back into the boy's home, where he has now been for six months. Now another family is lined up to take him in, hopefully for the last time.


**Well first of all, this is really short and I"m sorry, I promise the other chapters will be longer. Anyways this fic is going to be pretty dark, but it'll also be funny. I've had the idea for a while, and now I'm finally going to write it. This is a present for Beth Briansholden (Swift-Criss) Let me know what you think!**

* * *

"Okay Anderson, they'll be here to get you at one so be packed and ready to go," says a loud woman from behind the large wooden desk. She drops a large folder onto the desk, flipping it open before paging through the thick stack of white pages. Blaine sits silently in his chair across from her, one leg crossed over the other while he taps his foot impatiently. "The Hummel's," the woman says with a nod as she pulls out the sheet from the folder, letting the folder fall shut.

Blaine reaches out and takes the sheet from the woman, looking down at the familiar white form he'd held countless times before. The lines always filled with trivial information about the different families he'd be placed in. Their jobs, the number of kids, where they lived, what school district he'd be in, and other information that Blaine learned he should take with a grain of salt. After spending ten years in the corrupt foster system Blaine learned that it was best to not let the seemingly harmless family illustrated on paper get his hopes up. Blaine uncrosses his legs and stands up, pushing his seat back from the desk as he crumples the paper in his hand. "I'll be ready" he says with a small, carefully placed smile.

Just as Blaine turns to leave, the case worker stands up. "Blaine... wait," she says with a sigh as she walks around the desk. Blaine turns around to face her, shoving his hands into his pockets as he quirks an eyebrow at her. I know the past...well particularly the past two years have been really hard for you...but I really think this one could work out for you," the woman says with a genuine smile. Blaine sighs and looks down, bringing up a hand from his pocket to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit he'd never been able to break. He looks back to the woman who's bright green eyes glisten with hope in a way that doesn't match the past years of disappointment they'd both endured.

"Thank you, Mary, really. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt, I promise," Blaine lies with a small smile as he takes a few steps back towards the door, immediately craving the security of the tattered old sweatshirt that was hidden under his pillow. He shoves his hands deeper in his pockets as he tries to stop himself from rubbing at his bare wrists.

Mary rolls her eyes and smiles at him before returning to her desk. "You better, Mr. Anderson," she says with a smile as she sits back in her chair. "Remember to call me if you need anything. Be downstairs in the lobby at one," she says, keeping her eyes focused on her work as Blaine pulls open the door.

"Will do, thank you," he says as he slips out of the room without another word, shutting the door behind him. Blaine exhales loudly, pausing as he stood at the foot of the stairs that led to the first floor of the boys bedrooms. Don't be afraid, if you go quickly you'll be fine. Blaine swallows his worry and fear before taking another deep breath as he slowly makes his way up the stairs. The thumps of soccer balls hitting walls, and the loud shouts of all the boys filled Blaine's ears as he carefully takes each step. This had become a routine of sorts for Blaine whenever he was forced to live in the Dalton's Home for Boys. As the stereotypes for boys homes, violence among the kids wasn't uncommon, and if you were an easy target you had to always be on your toes. The fact that Blaine was short, and had a rather small build made him an easy target, whether he was in a foster home or in Dalton he was one of most commonly bullied. This only got worse when Blaine turned fourteen and came out as gay publicly, causing an uproar among the other boys in the home at the time. He endured not only horrible slurs slung at him in his foster homes and at Dalton, but he also had frequent "accidents" that landed him in the hospital. However, as Blaine grew older he decided to focus on building his strength rather than wallowing in self pity, and he even took up lacrosse and boxing to help with his agility and speed. No matter whether he was in a foster home or in a boys home, Blaine always joined the teams, trying to keep himself in the best shape to defend himself. That way even though he was an easy target, he was able to fight back.

"Hey Blaggot," a loud voice shouts as a Blaine steps onto the landing of the first floor, a soccer ball shooting into his gut. Blaine falls back into the wall with a grunt, coughing as he tries to regain his breath. He glares at the boy across the hall from him, rolling his eyes as he tosses the ball back toward him.

"Wow, Blaggot, haven't heard that one before, Derek," Blaine says as he shoves past him, trying to get to his room so he can finish packing and get out of this place, at least for a few months. Just an hour, one more hour. But before he can walk away a hand crabs a hold of his overgrown, dark curls, pulling his head back. Blaine's back arches backwards as his body follows his pulled head, cursing as he looks up at Derek. The tall blonde looks down at him as if he was an undesirable cockroach that he found on the floor of his room.

The taller boy looked down at him menacingly and pulls his hair up again to make him stand up before shoving him roughly against the wall. "You think you can get away with being a smartass, you fucking faggot?" Derek spits out as he steps closer to Blaine so the he is holding the shorter boy to the wall with his body. Blaine's jaw tenses as he keeps his eyes locked on the other boy's, tensing his legs slightly to be ready to make a run for it as quickly as possible. It was his first day meeting his new family, and although he doubted they would work out, he knew he had to make a good first impression for Mary's sake, which meant he couldn't look too scrappy. The bruises that already littered his flesh under his clothing would be bad enough if anyone saw them, so blood was simply unallowable.

"For someone who claims he's straight, you really seem to like touching me," Blaine says with slightly raised eyebrows, causing furry to overtake Derek's expression. Just as the blonde pulls back his fist to punch him, Blaine bucks up his knee into Derek's groin, effectively setting himself free. He immediately shoots back from the blonde and runs to his room, falling through his door and locking it behind him. "Fuck," he groans as he leans against the door, closing his eyes as he turns his attention back to his room.

Blaine places his hands on his hips as he surveys his small space, which was no bigger than a small bathroom. He'd packed his small wardrobe of a few t-shirts, sweatshirts, and jeans the night before, leaving him not much to do now. He settles on the edge of his bed and reaches under his pillow, pulling out an old New York Yankee sweatshirt. The black fabric is slightly faded on the fraying edges, the once thick cotton now thinning from being over-washed. To anyone else the sweatshirt would look like it was time to throw it out, but to Blaine it was one of the last things he had left to hold onto. His hands tighten slightly on the worn fabric before he pulls it over his head. He leaves the hood over his hair as he lays back on the bed, and looks up at the ceiling, his stomach churning as his mind whirls with the memories of his past. Not the bad memories, just the good, and he can't stop himself from hoping that maybe this family is his chance at having a happy ending. That maybe he'll finally be wanted again.

"Anderson, it's one!" said a loud voice, suddenly causing Blaine's eyes to fling open as he sits up. He looks around, disoriented as he stands up, shaking his head slightly.

"Shit, thanks I'm coming," he yells out as he grabs his old backpack and the guitar case that was leaning against his now empty dresser. Blaine opens his door and immediately runs for the stairs, inwardly scolding himself for falling asleep. Within seconds he's in the living room, breathing heavily as he tries to catch his breath. He smiles apologetically as Mary and a middle-aged man in a faded base-ball hat turns to him. The man smiles at him, nodding in greeting with his hands in his pockets. "I'm really sorry, I fell asleep," he says with a slight grimace, earning an eye-roll from Mary.

"Oh its fine, kid," the man says shrugging his shoulders as Blaine walks forward to. " I'm Burt Hummel," the man introduces himself, holding out his hand.

"Blaine Anderson" he says as he shakes Burt's hand before setting his guitar down in front of him and resting both his hands on top of it to hold it in place.

The trio stands in silence for a moment, both adults looking at Blaine as he keeps his eyes focused on the ground. "Well you guys are all set, so you better head to Lima," Mary says after a moment, turning her attention back to Burt. "Just remember what I told you," she says firmly. Burt nods once and smiles before looking back to Blaine.

"Lets go home kid," Burt says with a warm smile. Blaine smiles back slightly before looking to Mary, who nodded at him to go. He lifts his hand in a wave before following after Burt, letting him lead the way out. The pair walk in complete silence as they make their way to the large SUV in the driveway of the parking lot of Dalton. Blaine's eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, at the sleek car. He tried his best never to be a judgemental person, but from the way Burt had been dressed, he didn't expect him to be driving such an expensive car. Then again, he learned a long time ago to never judge a book by its cover. "You can put your stuff back here," Burt says as he opens the back door of the car, letting Blaine slide his things into the backseat before shutting the door.

Blaine flinches backwards slightly as Burt steps toward him, causing the older man to look at him in slight concern as he moves to walk around him. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, reminding himself that flinching raised questions. He had to be careful, but he needed to be inconspicuous. Blaine bites his lip and shakes his head once before climbing into the passenger seat and pulling his seatbelt on in silence. Burt looks at him for a moment before starting the car. They drive in silence for a few minutes, neither one of them having anything to say as they drive down the freeway towards Lima, Ohio, which was about a half hour drive from Westerville. The silence is comfortable, which is in a way comforting to Blaine. He isn't the type of person to always have something to say, and he can't help but favor people who he can just sit with once in a while. There are no expectations or awkward looks, just a comfortable silence.

"When Kurt sees that sweatshirt I think he's going to have a stroke," Burt says suddenly, breaking the silence as they pull into the city limits of Lima, population 38, 771 people. Blaine looks at Burt in confusion, immediately regretting not looking at the white form Mary had given him. The older man glances at him and laughs at the expression on his face. "Kurt's my son, and lets just say he has an...eye for fashion. The amount of times he's lectured me about this hat, I gotta tell you," he says with a smile as she shakes his head.

Blaine tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, laughing awkwardly as he looks out the window. "Well, you're allowed to be sentimental, right?" he says with a smile and a raised eyebrow as he looks back to Burt. The older man looks back to Blaine with a fond smile and nods as they turn down a side street.

"You're right, that's the argument right there. Maybe you can give Kurt a run for his money," he says with a smile as he looks back at the road. Burt squints slightly at the house as he pulls into the driveway. He switches off the car and turns back to Blaine with an apologetic smile, " I'm sure you're not really in the mood to celebrate or anything...but my wife, and Kurt probably prepared something in there for you. I'm sure its nothing big, probably just some balloons or something...but I just wanted to give you a heads up," Burt says with a smile as he opens his door and climbs out.

"Oh," Blaine says as he climbs out of the car as well, grabbing his belongings from the backseat and slinging his backpack over his shoulder before following after Burt. "Thanks for the heads up," he says as he and Burt reach the front porch.

Burt warily reaches out to open the door, and just as he turns the knob they hear a yell from inside, "Everyone shut up," Blaine's eyes widen and he looks at Burt who rolls his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

"Finn, you're going to ruin everything your so loud!" another voice yells out, and Blaine's eyes widen as Burt finally pushes the door open to find a room full of people. A boy with perfectly styled hair, clad in skinny jeans and a white button down, a tail dangling from his belt loop has his finger pointing angrily at a really tall boy who's expression reads like a kicked puppy. The boy with the tail looks at Burt and Blaine in the doorway in surprise, a dark blush filling his cheeks as his eyes meet Blaine's. "Welcome Home," he says sheepishly.

Blaine is pretty sure the other teenagers that fill the room yell out the same thing, but he doesn't hear it. His eyes remained locked on the sea-foam green eyes of the boy with the tail.


End file.
